


Small Sacrifices

by Bagpipes5k2



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, Childhood Memories, Gen, Pain, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-13 04:42:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12976176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bagpipes5k2/pseuds/Bagpipes5k2
Summary: Injured and in pain, Ignis contemplates a drastic decision during the battle in Altissia, one his friends need to talk him out of before it's too late.





	Small Sacrifices

**Author's Note:**

> **TRIGGER WARNING** Ignis thinks about suicide in this fic. I don't take this kind of thing lightly and sat on this story for a long time. But it stuck in my head and refused to leave until it was told. And yes, there's a happy ending, at least as happy as it can get for our guys in Altissia.
> 
> **Contains SPOILERS for FFXV and the shorter trailer for Episode Ignis**

The rain had stopped, at least. It was the only fortuitous event to occur in the last several hours, as far as Ignis was concerned. The royal advisor was sprawled facedown on the wet stone of whatever pier or forgotten side quay Ardyn had left him at, toyed with and forgotten like a brief amusement. The last image Ignis recalled being able to see was the chancellor standing above him with the hurricane-dark sky enfolding the city. . .

* * *

“I can’t have you ruining everything for me, you see. Not after all this time. I still have a role to play in Lucis, as do you and your. . . _companions_ ,” Ardyn sneered. “As for Noctis,”—he said the name as if it were something bitter—“well, let me say that he’ll be confronting me whether or not he wants to, and that meeting will be _prophetic_.” The chancellor knelt down close, Ignis’ own dagger in his hand bursting into flame as the advisor’s frantic thoughts turned inward. Something important was slipping into being, something he should know. . . The steel-gloved hands and boots of Imperial infantry soldiers and magitek troops kept him firmly in place on the cold, water-drenched ground, making sure his bound wrists couldn’t slip loose.  
“All that studying and reading you’ve been doing, _surely_ you know what this is about?” Ardyn sat back on his heels, waiting. Ignis tried to catch every scenario and wisp of thought circling his mind. They _had_ been watched, then, even here, even before the awful events of this day. Less than a week ago he’d been researching some of the older Lucis history, theories and myths surrounding the kings.  
Some of those had mentioned a man named Ardyn who would battle the 114th king of Lucis. Regis had been the 113th ruler, which meant—  
“There now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Ardyn leapt back to his feet, delighted in the shocked expression of raw horror that Ignis now wore. He struggled to free himself from the Niflheim soldiers but that only earned him a rough shove.  
“I won’t let you harm him!” Ignis tried one last time to escape his prison of metal and pain but the gauntlets and boots holding him in place wouldn’t move. “Gods and prophecies be damned!” The advisor had never felt so helpless. _If only we hadn’t been separated during the fighting. If only we had known to stay the hell away from here. If, if, if._  
“Oh, my dear advisor. They’re not the only ones.” Ardyn reached out to pluck Ignis’ glasses off and dropped them onto the ground, crushing them underfoot with a sickening _crunch_ that made Ignis wince. “‘The King of Light. The Shield. The Faithful Companion.’ And there’s one more in that painting, isn’t there?” Ardyn was crouched beside him again, the dagger dripping bits of magical flame that hissed and spat as they hit wet stone. “‘The Blind Scholar.’”  
There it was, the final piece falling into place like a lead-enshrouded fist to the stomach, and Ignis barely had time to shut his eyes and turn his head what little he could as the razor-edged flames engulfed his face.

* * *

_. . .We’ve failed_.  
Ignis curled up against himself, trying to think, to formulate a new plan, but the unbearable agony that had become his eyes clouded thought, burrowing into his mind and fighting for space. His potions and daggers had been confiscated by the soldiers earlier, his phone taken by Ardyn and tossed into the sea. The lance he’d used during the crazed fighting in the city had been lost in the mass of panic and fury.  
_What will kill me first, then? Hypothermia, blood loss, systemic shock, or pure disbelief at the audacity and cruelty of that accursed chancellor? At least the damn rain has stopped_. Ignis grit his teeth against another onslaught of pain and felt fresh warmth leaking from what had been his left eye. Ardyn’s words stormed through his head with each beating pulse. _It can’t be true. It can’t be. It’s just more of his lies_. Dizziness wrapped itself around Ignis like a moth-eaten scarf and he went limp where he lay, vertigo assaulting his senses. Somewhere out to sea he heard Leviathan roar and finally let despair take hold.  
_Callous, spiteful bitch_ , Ignis thought. He knew it was his injury affecting him; he’d never say such a thing aloud—that was more Gladio’s style—but the truth of it hurt. The Astrals didn’t care about what had taken place that day. Humanity was just a convenient tool for them, a way to have their will carried out.  
Ignis felt remorse and regret grating at him. _Forgive me, Regis. I did everything I could to protect your son. But there’s only so much one can do against beings with the power of gods and an army of never-ending terrors. I hope we can meet again on the Eternal Plains_. Giving in to the demands of exhaustion and cascading misery, Ignis waited for the inevitable sound of the Niflheim soldiers’ footsteps, come to finish what Ardyn had started.  


* * *

Grayish nothingness. A pulsing migraine. Time that lost meaning. Had he been lying there another whole day, or merely minutes? Was he dead? Ignis no longer knew or cared, but a jolt went through him anyway as the feared sound of running feet reached his ears. He remained facedown, the cold puddle beneath him the only comfort his ruined face had. Everything just _hurt_.  
“Ignis!”  
_Prompto_?! The advisor felt a wave of relief. The gunslinger still lived, and that meant Gladio and Noctis most likely did too. His friends. . . Footsteps skidded to a sloshy halt as Prompto crouched down beside Ignis and carefully touched his shoulder, encouraging him to look up.  
“Iggy? Hey, are you. . .”  
Ignis heard the pealing wail from the other man as his injuries were exposed. Prompto turned, screaming for Gladio. He immediately sat next to Ignis, pulling off his vest and wadding it into a pillow to support the other’s head as the older man slumped against the younger. Gentle fingers pushed waterlogged hair from Ignis’ face and he felt the cooling sensation of first one potion, then another being used on him. The wracking pain decreased, but not entirely.  
_And no effect on my sight_. Ignis felt a chill pit inside, knots of despair clenching at him. He sighed, content to just lie in a heap against the other. Ignis felt a wet drop against his face, then another. Had the rain returned? Yet another drop, and he heard sniffling.  
Not rain. Tears. Prompto was crying.  
“It’s truly that bad, then?” Ignis hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud.  
“We—we’ll get the Altissian healers,” Prompto gulped. “There’s gotta be som—something they can do,” he choked out.  
Familiar, heavy footsteps came charging up behind the pair as Gladiolus found them.  
“Noct’s with the docs at the hospital now,” the shield was saying, panting from running. “He’s out cold but should be. . .okay. . .” The larger man’s feet and words came to an abrupt halt as he came closer and saw Ignis. Vibrations of metal hitting stone washed over the advisor as he heard Gladio’s sword being dropped. _Gladio never drops his blade_ , Ignis thought blankly. _Never_.  
“Ig?” The shield fell down onto the ground next to his friends, numb. Prompto’s tear-streaked face told him everything even as he took one of Ignis’ hands in both of his. “Who. . .what. . .who did this?” Gladio could barely get the words out around the incensed anger coursing through him.  
“Ardyn.” Ignis felt the world he knew and trusted coming to a horrid end. Altissia was no longer a city of hope for them. It never would be, now.  
Raging fury tore loose from Gladiolus in a cry that rivaled Leviathan. He let Ignis’ hand go free and stood. “I’m going to find help,” he said hoarsely. “Stay here and watch over Iggy, Prom.” The shield recovered his blade, dismissing it as he ran off.  
“Will do,” the gunslinger whispered. He summoned one of his pistols, looking around as though expecting every shadow and drop of water to come to life and end them where they sat.  
Ignis heard the barely audible chime of the gun appearing in Prompto’s hand, and a dark thought entered his mind. Something he would never, ever have considered himself thinking before that moment, before this day. Everything suddenly became too clear, and that awful thought crystallized in his mind’s eye.  
_Forgive me, Prompto, but this is the only solution now_.  
Ignis’ hand snapped out like a viper, wresting the gun from Prompto even as he rolled aside, shoving the blonde away from him.  
“Iggy, what the hell?!” Confusion and hurt crossed the younger man’s face, and though he couldn’t see it Ignis could hear it in his voice. The advisor turned the gun in his hands so it was pointed towards himself.  
“I’m sorry, Prom, but this is the only way out of this.” Ignis cursed his shaking hands but he was petrified and was pretty sure Prompto was too now.  
“No, no, nononono! Iggy, _don’t_! Please?” Prompto froze, frantically trying to think of a way to defuse the ugly situation. Gladiolus was returning with two apothecaries but motioned them to stay back when he saw the scene unraveling before him.  
“Iggy, get a hold of yourself! What in the Astrals’ name are you _doing_?!” Gladio walked closer but Ignis brought the gun closer to his head.  
“Saving myself. Saving _Noct_.” Ignis felt his eyes welling over and lines of crimson-tinged tears ran down his face.  
“By _shooting_ yourself??”  
“It’s the only way to stop that damn prophecy from happening! If there’s only three of us and not four then it cannot be realized, correct? Noctis will survive, become the king we know he already is.”  
“Prophecy? Iggy, that’s. . .that’s just the pain affecting your mind—”  
“Ardyn said something to me before he. . .before this.”  
“Ardyn?!” Gladio growled. “Since when did any of us take what that piece of shit chancellor says as truth?” The shield walked closer to Ignis but hearing the larger man’s steps, Ignis snapped out of his fugue and Gladio heard the click of the hammer being pulled back on the pistol.  
“Please, Gladio, don’t make this any harder!”  
“Ignis, we swore an oath as Crownsguard, remember? To protect Noctis no matter what—“  
“—even at the cost of our own lives, yes!”  
“But _not like this_!” Gladio knelt down heavily, gesturing for Prompto to do the same. “Iggy, are you really going to kill yourself over a stupid prophecy that might not even be true? How can you help Noct get through this if you’re _dead_?” The shield’s voice cracked and Prompto saw Gladio’s eyes glinting with unshed tears. The gunner felt his own spilling down his cheeks and buried his face in his hands.  
Ignis held position, hesitating, trying to think through the pulses of throbbing pain his own tears had caused. Everything seemed to slow, time shocked into complete stillness in that moment of do I or don’t I. And before the advisor could make any final decision, a memory came bursting up from the depths of his thoughts.  
_He was only five or six, standing there in the magnificent throne room of King Regis. The king’s young son Noctis hovered near his father’s side, intense playful eyes of stormy blue staring out from beneath a mop of raven hair. Regis was saying something important: Listen well. A king cannot lead by standing still. A king pushes onward always, accepting the consequences and never looking back._  
Ignis would never forget those words, or the handshake Noctis joyfully gave him.  
The prince was eager to show Ignis the citadel, starting with the toys in his bedroom.  
“—and these are my Crownsguard figures. Aren’t they cool?! And this—” Noctis pulled a large stuffed animal from the chest at the foot of his bed—“is my behemoth! Rowr!” The prince happily plowed into the collection of characters with the plush monster, and Ignis couldn’t help laughing along with his new friend. That afternoon they shared a plate of homemade cookies from the citadel kitchens along with glasses of chocolate milk. And later, after dinner, Ignis and Noctis sat together on the prince’s bed, with Ignis reading to him from a copy of the Cosmogony. It didn’t take much for Noctis to become sleepy, and when he began yawning and instinctively curled up against Ignis the older boy put the book away and pulled a blanket around the prince, already looking out for his charge.  
“Thanks, Iggy.” Noctis settled in to go back to sleep, then suddenly looked up at the other. “Iggy?”  
“Highness?”  
“You’ll always be with me, right? You won’t go away?”  
Ignis smiled; the prince already felt like a brother.  
“I’ll always be with you. And I won’t leave unless you want me to.”  
“Promise?”  
“Promise.”  
Noctis hugged Ignis. “You’re the best, Iggy. . .”

Ignis let the gun slip from his trembling hand, slumping against the ground. Prompto darted in and swept up the weapon, sending it back to the nonspace of the armiger as Gladio came over. The shield held their injured friend against him while Prompto took Ignis’ hands in his.  
“We’re here for you, Iggy.”  
The advisor returned the gunner’s hold as he let Gladio take his weight, too spent to do anything but mourn everything they had all lost that day.  
“How can I possibly help Noctis like this?” Ignis’ voice was barely audible as fresh tears spilled down his cheeks.  
“We’ll find a way.” Prompto picked up his jacket and put it around Ignis’ shoulders as Gladio encouraged him to stand.  
“Noct will need us there when he wakes up,” the shield said. “ _All_ of us.”  
Ignis felt Gladio’s strong arm looped around one of his and Prompto’s around his waist. Friends, alive and well, never ready to give in. The way he needed to be for Noctis, no matter how hard it would be now. He put his free arm around Prompto’s shoulders and gripped Gladio’s a little tighter, gestures of thanks as well as physical support.  
“Right, then. Our king needs us.” Ignis allowed his companions to lead him around the rubble scattered along the pier, back towards the Leville and the next path in their journey.


End file.
